


Compromise

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [59]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 05:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16443830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “Who said I’m mad at Bryce?” Jared says.“Really?” his mom asks. “Are you seriously going to claim you aren’t?”“There are other things in my life,” Jared says. “I could be mad about something else.”“But you aren’t,” she says.“Whatever,” Jared mutters.





	Compromise

It’s weird, not waking up to an alarm, or Bryce, but instead to a knock on the bedroom door, his mom saying, “It’s almost noon, Jared,” when Jared groans in response. That’s unacceptably late, so Jared drags himself out of bed, into the shower, cursing as he realises he’s stuck with Erin’s fruity shower shit again.

He charges his computer with his mom’s cord while he eats breakfast. They don’t have a lot of the things he usually eats — his cereal isn’t there, and neither is his oatmeal or the twelve grain toast he’s used to. He guesses he was the only one eating any of it, but it makes him feel uncomfortable, like it’s not his house anymore. Which he guesses it isn’t. 

Jared makes himself an omelette in the end, has regular whole wheat toast on the side, drinks more coffee than he should, because he feels bleary. That doesn’t make sense with the amount of sleep he had, but then, the way he’s feeling always seems to have a way of making it to his body.

“Have a good sleep?” his mom says, coming into the kitchen.

“Oh my god, mom, I’m not five,” Jared says. “A ‘good sleep’, seriously?”

“Okay,” she says, putting her hands up. “Guess you didn’t.”

“Sleep doesn’t have a value,” Jared says.

“Really didn’t,” she says.

“You don’t have any breakfast shit I can eat,” Jared says.

She looks down at his omelette.

“Well obviously you have eggs,” Jared mutters.

“Obviously,” she says, then, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Jared says.

“Okay,” she says. “That’s your right.”

“I know it is,” Jared says.

“But,” she says. “You don’t get to stomp around here making everyone else feel bad because you’re upset. You chose to move out, Jared. We’re always here for you if you need us, but we’re not here to be your punching bags because you’re mad at Bryce.”

“Who said I’m mad at Bryce?” Jared says.

“Really?” his mom asks. “Are you seriously going to claim you aren’t?”

“There are other things in my life,” Jared says. “I could be mad about something else.”

“But you aren’t,” she says.

“Whatever,” Jared mutters.

“You want to come grocery shopping with me?” she asks.

Jared shrugs aggressively.

“You want to go back to Bryce’s?” she asks. “You know, the place you live? With Bryce? Who’s presumably in Colorado right now, so it’s not like you even have to see him?”

“Fine,” Jared snaps. “I’ll come grocery shopping.”

“Don’t do me any favours,” she mutters.

In the cereal aisle, his mom adds a bag of oats to their cart. 

“You don’t have to,” Jared says. “I know I don’t — you don’t have to.”

“It’s not like it goes bad quickly,” she says, and he doesn’t protest when she adds the cereal he likes either.

He helps her with dinner again in penance for being a dick — it’s pasta this time, thankfully, which is both his default dinner and also, you know, not gross. His dad offers him a beer again, but with this like, weird expression on his face, like he’s testing him. Jared demurs, and doesn’t know if he’s imagining it that his dad looks relieved.

Jared can’t just not watch the Flames game. For one, it’d pretty blatantly confirm what his parents have clearly already figured out, and just because Jared’s pissed at Bryce doesn’t mean he isn’t still a little invested in the outcome. He really needs to get over that before he signs with the Oilers. If he signs with the Oilers. Maybe he’ll be a career washout, who fucking knows. 

During the first intermission Jared goes to the bathroom, pauses by his room before picking his phone up. It’s been a brick since last night, and he thumbs it on before heading downstairs, tells himself it’s stupid to potentially miss texts from other people just because he doesn’t want to hear from Bryce.

Not that he has texts from other people. Jared Matheson: popular as ever.

The amount of missed calls and texts from Bryce makes up for it. Like. In quantity. Jared’s not interested in hearing what he has to say. The Flames come back on the ice and Jared thumbs open his messages, just. Because, he guesses.

 _can u call me pls?_ is Bryce’s last text. Obviously Jared can’t call him right now — see, tiny white and red dots on the screen that kind of indicates Bryce is busy doing something else. And who knows, if they win after he might be busy flirting with some Colorado…an. Or whatever people from Colorado are called.

 _At my parents, so don’t call me. Let me know when you’re free and I’ll call you_ , Jared texts before he can re-think it, looks up to see Bryce jump over the bench and onto the ice to take the face-off after Colorado ices the puck. Bryce loses the draw.

The Flames lose the game. The Flames lose pretty fucking badly, honestly. There was no score going into the second, but Colorado lights them up after, and it’s 5-0 Avs when the final horn goes, Jared catching a glimpse of Lawrence slamming his goal stick against the boards before his dad grumpily changes the channel.

His parents go to bed after watching the news, his dad clapping him on the back and telling him not to wake them up, like he plans on it, his mom ruffling his hair, which he shrinks away from. Jared flips through channels, half-heartedly watching some shit about the scariest places in the world because nothing else catches his attention.

 _im free, can u call?_ Bryce texts, and Jared, after a moment of hesitation, heads down to the basement, because if there’s yelling, and there might be, he doesn’t want to wake anyone up. Maybe his dad had a point when he warned him after all.

The basement is depressing. His dad got started on finishing it like, ten years ago, but gave up because no one went down anyway, so basically it’s just where the laundry room lives. That, and the net Jared used to shoot at, because no one cared if he missed and dinged the walls. Basically the only other thing it’s used for is to store a lot of stuff they don’t have room for anywhere else, like all the Christmas decorations, some old toys his parents want to hang onto more than Jared or Erin do, a ridiculous amount of National Geographic issues Jared doesn’t remember anyone ever reading. There’s nowhere to sit, not really, so cold concrete floor it is, back against the wall marked up from the shots that missed the net. 

It’s ridiculous how long Jared stares at his phone before he calls Bryce. Like, his ass gets cold from the floor amount of time.

“Hi,” Bryce says when he picks up, sounding weirdly cautious.

“Sorry about the loss,” Jared says.

“Yeah, it sucked,” Bryce says. “Are you, um. Are you still mad at me?”

“Yep,” Jared says.

“Oh,” Bryce says. “Okay.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be?” Jared asks. “Like, ‘hey, maybe Jared has short term memory loss, in a day it’ll be fine’.”

“No, I just—” Bryce says. “Hoped you wouldn’t be, I guess. How are the Mathesons?”

“Did you want to talk about shit or just like, call to make sure I’m not mad?” Jared asks. “Because I am, so I don’t really want to chat about my family with you right now like everything’s okay.”

Bryce is quiet. “I talked to my mom,” he says.

“That’s nice, hope Elaine’s doing well, still don’t want to fucking—” Jared says.

“About our — about you being mad at me,” Bryce says. “Fuck, Jared, let me finish a sentence.”

“Fine,” Jared mutters, picking at a loose thread on his sweats. “You talked to Elaine about me.”

“She said, um,” Bryce says, then quietly enough Jared has to strain to hear him, “She said if I wasn’t comfortable having a boyfriend, maybe I wasn’t ready for one.”

Jared is pretty sure he’s stopped breathing. “So what?” Jared manages somehow. “Are you seriously breaking up with me on the phone?”

“I’m not breaking up with you!” Bryce says. “But she like, had a point, that if I want to, you know, be with you I kind of — I dunno.”

Jared can’t even begin to figure out the point Bryce trying to make here, but since it’s not that he’s breaking up with him, his lungs are working again, so that’s good.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Jared says.

“Me either, kinda,” Bryce says. “I’ve been thinking about it all day — like, except during the game —”

“Of course,” Jared says. “Head in the game.”

“Right,” Bryce says. “Well, I tried at least.”

He did look kind of off, but Jared didn’t want to like, think it had anything to do with him. 

“I’m not ready to come out,” Bryce says. “Like. To the media. Not now and probably never.”

“I never asked you to,” Jared says. “Fuck, Bryce, I’m not exactly interested in doing that either.”

“I’m not ready to come out to my team either,” Bryce says.

“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” Jared says. “What with the whole posing as a straight douchebag.”

“I’ll stop,” Bryce says. “Flirting, I mean. Or like, pretend flirting.”

“Kay, great,” Jared says flatly. “Cool.”

“You don’t sound—” Bryce says.

“I don’t know if you’re expecting me to be hyped by you agreeing not to do something shitty I had never even thought you were doing until I saw it,” Jared says. “But, you know, spoiler alert: I’m not.”

“I’m trying here, Jared,” Bryce says. 

“You don’t get points for that when it turns out you’ve been pretending to fuck other people for probably our entire relationship,” Jared says. “Or maybe you didn’t just pretend. Ever go back with one of them, try for realism?”

“That’s not fucking fair,” Bryce says. “You know I’d never—”

“Do I, though?” Jared says. “Because the person you are when it’s just you and me and the person you are around other people seem really fucking different, and I don’t know shit about him. Don’t like him much either.”

“You know what?” Bryce says. “Fuck you too, I’m trying to say something here—”

“Then get to it,” Jared says. “Because right now all I’m hearing is ‘I won’t do the thing I would have kept doing with no remorse if you hadn’t gotten mad at me about it’, and again, that’s not even the bare fucking minimum I need from you.”

“What if —” Bryce says, then blows out a breath. “What if you told Chaz?”

“Told Chaz _what_?” Jared asks.

“Like. About us. That I’m BJ or whatever,” Bryce says. “Would that be — I’m not ready to tell the team, but you said — you said he didn’t tell anyone about you, right? And he’s team, so.”

“I mean, he’s known about us for like a year and he hasn’t said a thing to anyone but me,” Jared says, mouth ahead of his brain. “He won’t even bring me having a boyfriend up unless we’ve got privacy. He knows how to keep his mouth shut.”

Then, when his brain catches up. “What?”

“What?” Bryce says.

“You want to tell Chaz?” Jared asks.

“No,” Bryce says without a second of hesitation, and Jared flinches. “But I didn’t want to tell my mom either, and that worked out okay. And you want me to — you want people to know. And he’s your friend. And like. Mine too, at least I think so.”

“You’re friends,” Jared says. “He was hyped to introduce us, and he got all mad at me for dissing you.”

“You dissed me?” Bryce says.

“You deserved it at the time,” Jared says. “You really — Chaz, really?”

“Look, I told you,” Bryce says. “Your feelings are important to me, okay?”

“They shouldn’t be more important than like —” Jared starts, considers. “I don’t want you doing something you’re going to regret and then resenting me for it.”

“I wouldn’t,” Bryce says.

“You can’t promise that, it’s not really in your control,” Jared says.

“Yeah but you said he won’t tell anyone else,” Bryce says. “And like, that he’s cool about it. So I don’t see why I’d regret you telling him.”

“Wait,” Jared says. “Why am _I_ the one telling Chaz?”

“Because I’d pussy out,” Bryce says.

“Because you’re not ready,” Jared says.

“I’m just—” Bryce says. “I want you to know I’m serious about this. About us. And I’m not — I’m not comfortable with it like you are. I wish I was, but I’m not. But I’m trying, you know? And I know you think I’m ashamed of you, but like, how the fuck could I be ashamed of you? You are so much better than I like, expected, or deserve, and I’m like, whatever the opposite of ashamed is. Proud. I’m crazy proud you’re my boyfriend.”

“Except I’m a guy,” Jared says.

“If you weren’t a guy I wouldn’t be into you,” Bryce says. “And like. I’m not proud of that. But that’s on me, not you. That has nothing to do with you, you’re amazing.”

Jared chews his lip. 

“I know you’d prefer if I like, was cool telling everyone,” Bryce says. “But I’m not. And like, this is — this is really hard for me, you know?”

“I know,” Jared says. “I’m sorry.”

“So like, I’ll quit pretending to pick up,” Bryce says. “You can like, ask Chaz, even, if he knows. But I — I dunno.”

Bryce goes quiet then, and Jared doesn’t know what to say, so he just listens to him breathing over a thousand kilometres away.

“Are you still mad at me?” Bryce asks, voice small.

“A little,” Jared says. “But. I don’t know. Do you even like — do you get how fucked up you pretending to pick up girls is?”

“Not — really,” Bryce says. “But I know it upset you, so that’s like, all that’s important.”

“It’s not, not really,” Jared says, but he’s too tired to get back into it tonight. He hates fighting with Bryce, hates how fucking exhausted he is after, wrung dry. Hates hearing Bryce’s voice the way it gets, like one mean word from Jared and he’s cringing away. “I don’t want to tell Chaz if you’re just suggesting this because you think it’s something I want, something so I won’t be mad. I don’t want you coming out because of me.”

“I — will, though,” Bryce says. “Like, if it was just me — it isn’t, though. That’s what my mom was getting at, I think. Like. Being in a relationship is compromise, you know?”

“We’ll talk about it when you come home, okay?” Jared says. “We don’t need to decide tonight.”

“Will you be home when I do?” Bryce says.

“Going to Lethbridge tomorrow, remember?” Jared asks. “Game against the Hurricanes.”

“Yeah,” Bryce says. “But like. After that? Will you come home, or—”

“Yeah,” Jared says. “I’ll come home.”

“Thanks,” Bryce mumbles, and Jared splays his hand out on the cold concrete, wanting to touch him.

“I should get some sleep,” Jared asks. “And you should too.”

“Yeah,” Bryce says. “Can I — can I call you tomorrow?”

“Okay,” Jared says, something sitting tight in his chest loosening when Bryce exhales, relieved sounding. “I love you, okay?”

“Love you too,” Bryce says, Jared’s phone hot against his cheek.

Jared’s back and knees protest loudly when he gets up from the floor after hanging up, ass basically numb, but other than that, he feels better than he has since Friday night.

 _nite_ , Bryce sends before Jared even reaches his room, followed by a heart, and Jared shoots it back, correctly spelled this time, with a heart of his own.


End file.
